Rebellious Thoughts of a Woman

I went to the first birthday party of an adorable third cousin the other day. At the party was the birthday boy’s aunt who, after a disastrous first marriage, remarried last month. Also present was a friend of the birthday boy’s father, who will be getting married in April. There was wedding talk. At the party were also the infant children of friends, the 5-year-old child of a friend, and the teenage children of the birthday boy’s mother’s cousin. There was looking at children standing, running, sliding, and, generally, being children. And there was me, unaccompanied by any children, no wedding dresses to discuss, and no spouse to get me a bottle of water, hon, thanks.

I have begun to get used to and accepting of this situation, a post-modern version of the spinster aunt. Am I simply an “unaccompanied woman,” since that’s what I am and that’s certainly how I feel? While I have no intention of getting maudlin here, I need to acknowledge that not having children who are of an age that they have no choice but to come with me and without any leverage (or desire) to force them to come whether they like it or not, and not having a someone to fill in the gaps between going from group to group is lonely. And I wish it weren’t.

In what has become an awful habit, I check out the men in different settings to see if any would be click material if not married. And, as is generally the case, no one has click potential. In my defense, I must say that I don’t get out much. Both of these facts lead me to what is becoming a coming to terms that I will probably remain unaccompanied. Or maybe I am mentally preparing myself to be alone so that I won’t be disappointed (too much) if that, indeed, becomes my reality.

Who the hell cares if I’m lonely? That’s something that I need to deal with, by either stewing in my own juices or getting out more. I have often been alone (what a shock, a writer who likes to be alone), but this lemon tree in my front yard is not even letting me savor the richness of solitude. It’s being at a party knowing that I once had the accoutrements but now do not that is especially difficult. Those could be my kids eating the sushi and listening to grownups talk about wedding dresses. That could be my spouse who rubs my back as he listens to me talk to someone about our wedding 23-years ago. And that could be me, making sure my children get a slice of cake with rainbow frosting and say thank you when we leave. And that could be me, telling hubby that we need to stay for a few minutes. But it’s not.

No. This is my reality. And you know, all of those people, no one made me feel alone, I did that. I need to grow into my life, and shed my expectations and disappointments. I’m getting there. After all, I didn’t fake cancel going to the party because I didn’t want to be alone. And I didn’t come late and leave early (well, I left early, but that was the time the party was supposed to end). This is it babe. Deal.

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